What we are (beneath the moonlight)
by iloveliterature
Summary: Atsushi is nine when the war breaks out. He's not yet thirteen when he's named a soldier, a child of war. He still meets Dazai, though, five years later by that riverbank.
1. Chapter 1

It goes like this:

Atsushi was seven when he kills his father. A moderately wealthy man, owning a small sheep farm under an idyllic cliff. He had a modest herd, a few sheepdogs and a barn cat all overlooked by a rustic farmhouse. The sky was perpetually blue and the grass was always green.

His father was raising a broken glass bottle over his head, ready to tear its jagged edges through his wife's skin in a blow that would be her death when Atsushi jumped between them. His blood sprayed in a copper scented arc and the Tiger chased it out through the bars of his cage.

As a human he'd never been strong enough to fight back, for the Tiger it was too easy to tear his father apart. Sometimes he thinks the crack he heard as he bit down on his father's neck was the sound of his mother's mind breaking. Sanity leaking past the wound like his father's blood down Atsushi's throat.

By morning he's moved the body out of the house and washed the blood from the wooden floor.

By morning his mother doesn't recognize him.

She took him to the orphanage where he'd stay for six years. He'll hate every minute of it, the Headmaster even more so. Its only redeeming feature was the meadow filled with fragrant flowers.

You'll be fine, she murmured at the steps just before she walked away, you seem the sort to land on your feet.

 _(This is how it starts:_

 _At-su-shi_

 _His mother draws in the soft dirt of their garden, her hair a fall of black silk along his bare arm and her lips upturned in a smile under the brief summer sunshine._

 _Na-ka-ji-ma_

" _Artem!" His father roars._

 _She whispers its meaning in a language that exists just between the two of them._

 _Why doesn't Father know it? He asks and her hands still. Rich and black earth crumbling as it falls from her fingertips._

 _Your father is a busy man._

" _Artem!" His father rages._

 _His mothers eyes tighten, delicate crows feet branching out._

 _I'll deal with this._

 _Run now, Atsushi.)_

He was nine when the war breaks out.

Trapped in the cages of chores and punishment and the cycle of the moon he couldn't care less about the world outside. Later, when food got scarcer and people meaner he thought it might have been better if he'd paid a little more attention.

I'll be fine, is what he told himself as he was left alone. He was capable of landing on his feet.

 _(_ _This is how it builds:_

 _John was a gambling man before he came to the church, begging for God's forgiveness. Black jack and poker, slot machines and dog fights, anything and everything he could lose money on. But his favourite was horse racing. He managed to shuck everything else inside that stained glass church, but not the racing._

 _Atsushi gets in line with 9 other boys and every one of them glares at him. A bowl of stew with actual beef on the line and Atsushi is the fastest one there._

 _Someone calls time and they take off, the beaten dirt track a blur underneath him. He won't look up._

 _A lone poppy stands tall and proud in the middle of the road and as he twists to avoid it an elbow makes its way into his ribs, an ankle catches his, and the world whirls around him. An orphans version of a merry go round._

 _The poppy is trampled beneath him. He gets up. He keeps running.)_

Six months in and the Ukraine knew it was losing. They had always been poor and the famine had only pushed them into desperation; it was only their misfortune that Belarus had just come under Russian control.

Against a constant influx of fresh supplies, soldiers and weaponry, they didn't stand a chance.

When a treaty was attempted, Russia refuses. Wanting to expand their influence and access to the Black Sea they set out to invade Atsushi's country instead.

And something drastic was done. Anyone fifteen and older was drafted into the army. Anyone younger could sign up.

Of course no one ever looked too closely at the consent forms and people being trafficked into the army for a sum was far too common. In times like that, you landed on your feet or you were crushed under someone else's.

 _(This is how it burrows in_

 _It is the new moon and they slip into his room like spectors. They are the red and gray of the shinigami in his mother's stories and he huddles in shaking silence as they come for him. Their needle shines in the starlight before it slips underneath his skin._ _And as his world bleeds into a haze a shadow hisses from the doorway,_

" _Work hard for the army and maybe your wretched life will be worth something one day."_

 _There is no moon to pray to that night, and his legs twitch sluggishly as he tries to move._

 _The truck they put him in does what he can not, it runs)_

It took hours to get to the training camp. Money changed hands when they arrived and a forged document with his name on it is handed to the instructor. He looked down at Atsushi with something vaguely resembling pity and said he's much too small to really be useful.

Atsushi had a natural aptitude for survival and two months in he could shoot decently. He was best at hand-to-hand combat but could never successfully lead a team and was never confident enough in his strategies to use them. They decided it's good enough and he was sent to an outpost called Kerenza. He was the youngest sent, and the least trained. They wanted him gone. No one ever told him it's his foreign heritage, they never had to.

They sent him by truck, crammed in with other barely trained almost teenagers when the bullet had burst through the front tire. The vehicle veered to the side and hit a landmine. Atsushi was the only one to survive. He came to, buried under people his own age and enough blood on his clothes to think he's dying.

He wiggled out from beneath the bodies and tried not to think about the number of dead he had touched as he looked for the familiar shinigami colours that told him he was among allies. Thankfully, and he nearly laughed when someone told him this, his truck was the only one hit and quick actions from the older soldiers had ensured the quick death of the sniper that shot the tires, so they'd continue on to Kerenza.

You're lucky, someone had the gall to tell him, you landed on your feet.

 _(This is how it gains momentum:_

 _He feels the truck shudder underneath him and everything veers dizzyingly. Bodies tumble against him, the sharp weight of a boot on his hand and the softer blow of a thigh against his._

 _Left, straight, right, straight, left, left, left._

 _Atsushi's weight leaves his seat and..._

 _BAMM_

 _Atsushi's head rings and he can't breathe through the crushing weight surrounding him. Distantly he remembers this feeling. He had fallen through the ice once, the way it had felt, like every muscle in his body had constricted all at once, and the entire weight of the river had wrapped itself around his chest._

 _He didn't know which way was up and the sickeningly pliant darkness offers no clues. Still, something drags him forward and he moves, digging his way through, trying to run and run and run)_

It's later, in another, identical, truck with people only half a decade older than him that he'd think back and wonder. About the open view from the back of the truck, the dry air that had come in along with the sand and the sun, about the nervous and the anxious, the scared and the determined, overwhelmingly angry child soldiers next to him and across from him and wonder why he survived at all. Was it position? Was is skill? Was is luck? What made him more worthy to live than anyone at all. The Headmaster would have said he isn't worthy, but he had to believe there is more to worth than what one man says; that there was more to _Atsushi's_ worth than what one man said.

He didn't realize he was shaking until the man, still a boy, but at the moment five years older seems like a lifetime away, put an arm around him. The dog tag spelled Dan, and Dan held Atsushi like he was about to shatter in his grasp, like he was something precious. It eased something in him, the last time he had been held like that was before he broke his mother.

.

.

.

Atsushi hit fourteen and had been at this godforsaken post nearly a year when he truly learned to hate himself. He'd seen enough death to know he'll always recognize the stench in his nose or the taste on his tongue. He'd yet to kill anyone though, surprisingly. He'd mostly been used as a messenger running up and down the lines, carrying information. This is how he learned just how badly off they were, that their supplies had been cut off and the enemy's planes were coming. Those planes hold hundreds of pounds of TNT. He did not know how to disarm a bomb. He did not think it mattered.

He ran when the sky started falling. Planes roaring over his head, something roaring _in_ his head. All around him the sky smashed into the earth, and the earth rose up to hit the sky right back.

He didn't go for the bunker.

It was the first thing hit, just barely disguising the fact that it first blew from the inside.

None of this had anything to do with hating himself, not until Dan found him huddled in a ditch in dead man's land. The older boy stepped on a landmine trying to get to him. Dan had only been worried, he'd also been an idiot. None of this stopped Atsushi's self-loathing. Not when Dan's blood looked so accusing strewn across his hands.

.

.

.

Atsushi was barely fifteen when the outpost was taken over. After the bombing incident over half their forces were killed, a third of the remaining severely injured and supply lines still cut off. When the enemies started charging he knew they're dead, so he hides in a chest when the battle starts. He knew it was cowardly but he couldn't quite bring himself to care, he never signed up for this anyway.

When the noises stopped he thought it was over. So he got out of the trunk and walks towards the door. For one glorious moment he thinks it's over, but then he reached the doorway.

He'd never know how many rounds they fire into him, only that the _rat-a-tat-tat_ of the guns seemed endless. He doesn't remember much after that, only the scent of blood and the taste of flesh on his tongue. And that at the end his comrades were dead but so were his enemies. He wondered what it was that made him worthy of being the only one of them to make it out alive. It couldn't be because he hit first, he hadn't. Somewhere, he knew, the Headmaster was scowling at him.

.

.

.

It was three days later and they'd finally broke through the blockade. They came to Kerenza and found Atsushi on one of the few hills that survived. He was surrounded by wildflowers. It was a stunning juxtapose to the battlefield only a few yards away.

The commanding officer asked him what happened and Atsushi couldn't stop the tears from falling. The cruel grip around his jaw was startling, the harsh words that followed painful. "This is war, soldier. You don't have time to cry, you don't have the right". It only cemented his belief that abandoned children were not allowed to cry.

The commanding officer was looking down at him with disdain and thinly disguised fear and Atsushi wondered what is so wrong with him, that makes every adult hate him. And later, much later, he will wonder what about him killed everyone around him. He will soon find out what it was, it was hard not to miss the claw marks on the bodies, the teeth marks and that awful roaring that echoed in his ears.

He was given orders to stay with the commander. In one of the squads there was a man that reminded Atsushi of Dan.

He made sure to stay far away from him.

.

.

.

He didn't stay there long. When headquarters found out what he did, how many he'd killed, they made him a part of a special task force. It consisted of twenty-two people and all of them had abilities. His own didn't surprise him; he'd been dreaming of _him_ since he was seven.

.

.

.

The Headmaster only came to see him once. He stared at Atsushi for a bit before asking,

"Tell me boy, do you hate me?"

Atsushi had spent years trying to give the Headmaster an answer that was both right and something he could live with. He said no and the Headmasters mouth twisted downwards.

"Then tell me, do you still hate yourself."

He said no. One of those answers was a lie

"Good." The Headmaster smiled. "Good, I made the right decision then." It took eight people to keep Atsushi from tearing his throat out.

.

.

.

The task force, SATF, was a desperate gamble. HQ threw them at the enemy with vigor, neither caring if they lived or died, only that they succeeded. In two months they're down to twelve and Atsushi was their strongest. But there was something wrong with him, he was problematic, he couldn't control his power. He was either a human with a healing factor and a gun or a Tiger that destroyed everything in sight.

For the first two months, his battles were consistent. He was given a ride as close to the battlefield as he could get, he'll do as much as he can while human but inevitably his ability takes over. Mostly it's after he's been hurt, the third shot usually does it. He tries not to remember the time he had a grenade launched at his head.

But soon enough it gets too much even for him, no matter how many times he lands upright, his feet barely underneath him, just enough not to fall

( _This is how it stays:_

 _Exhaustion pours itself into his limbs like concrete. He's fought too long and gone too far and the knowledge of what was up ahead only makes dread curl in his gut. He doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to listen to people beg for their lives, he doesn't want the gunshots and the knife wounds and the-_

 _Atsushi chokes back a sob, hands trembling around his automatic. The deep blue sky is impossibly wide above him, and he wants, so deeply, to hide from it. Exposed in the middle of the street there is no cover and his only warning is the whoosh~ of displaced air as the grenade flies through it._

 _It arcs high. He throws his hands up, desperate, hoping, and he has a split second to feel the metal of his gun melt into his palms before he loses his arms. The pain is blinding until it's gone and his vision clears to the sight of fifteen terrified Russians screaming._

" _Karachun" they hiss._

" _He's here! Kill him, shoot him!" they cry._

" _That doesn't work, he's immortal, he's immortal," they sob._

 _He feels their fear like congealing blood down his throat, he can't swallow it, can't stand to be the one inciting it._

 _No more, he thinks, no more, and runs.)_

He gained three partners.

Kazimir, who could control flames so long as they were three meters from his body. He was fifteen, like Atsushi, and the only thing he really cared about was fighting. The enemy, the world, himself.

Natasha, brutally composed and able to create crystal clear barriers she was smart enough to be a competent medic even at fourteen. She was with them to keep Atsushi moving.

And Lyosha, his handler. Eighteen and capable of making unbreakable chains from his body he stopped the tigers rampages when the only ones left to kill were his allies. Atsushi thanked him every time; because for all that he had no love for this army he hadn't wanted to kill any more people than he had to.

For the next ten months they fought together. They had fit together easily, for all of Atsushi's timidness and Kazimir's ego clashed, Natasha balanced them both and Lyosha kept them under control. They made a good team; they killed more people than any care to count.

They might have been friends, even family, if their situation was different. But it wasn't, Atsushi's fragile control terrified and Kazimir's self destruction rankled, Natasha couldn't express real emotion if it killed her and Lyosha hated them as much as he loved them. At best they became people who trusted each other with their lives and little else.

.

.

.

Ten months of non-stop fighting and Atsushi was sixteen when suddenly they were given the order to come back. They were all surprised. Atsushi's healing factor had him fighting long after everyone else had stopped. It left his team hopping from battlefield to battlefield, he couldn't have remembered the last time he'd had a break.

Regardless, it wasn't their place to question orders and they headed back without complaint. They really should have though, it might not have turned out so bad if they had.

.

.

.

After five years of war, the three countries had come to an agreement. Officially, the Ukraine would come under Russian control, in return for food and supplies, and in return the Ukrainian army, especially the SATF, would be disbanded. Unofficially, Russia considered the SATF to be too dangerous to continue. They would be handed over for prosecution, officers with supportive roles were imprisoned but anyone deemed too hard to control was slated for termination.

Of course none of the SATF members had known about that part.

They were recalled to a small, out of the way Hamlet on the edge of the Kremenchutske river. A beautiful band of swift running silver just out of view of the main square. Some of them were smart enough to figure it out before the shooting. And some, like Atsushi, only knew what was happening when soldiers in shinigami colours took their positions on the rooftops and started to fire.

There were 80 ability users with powers too dangerous to control, there were 420 people considered too loyal to the SATF to be reconditioned.

Later it would be called the Last Battle, a renegade group unwilling to surrender refused their orders to stand down and fought to the last soldier for a free Ukraine. Ukranian civilians unhappy with the change in government would laud them as heroes. A glorious, patriotic end.

Linguistically it couldn't have been considered a battle, a battle implied victory was possible for either side. With five hundred people crowded in a confined space, adults on one side and children on the other, they were shot down like cattle. The Chief of Supernatural Abilities had willingly given away all information on his men and women, nothing was thrown at the enemy that they hadn't expected.

It wasn't a battle.

It was a bloodbath.

A Massacre.

It's the Tiger that lands them on their feet.

( _This is how it saves him_

 _He is pressed shoulder to shoulder with boys he vaguely remembers knowing. Everyone around him is restless, the stink of sweat and fear burns in his nostrils and his hands shake in sympathy._

 _The Tiger raises His head inside him and starts pulling on His fragile chains, restless._

' _Careful,' He says. Atsushi jostles his way forward to Kazimir's side._

 _On top of the rustic townhouses around them the familiar red and gray colours stand out against the blue sky._

" _What is going on," he hisses to Kazimir._

 _His partner sneers, digging his fingers into his empty holster._

" _Nothing good, you scared?"_

" _Always," Atsushi sighs. Kazimir snorts, his lips quirking up at the corners. His partner turns to him, opens his mouth, closes it. Atsushi's brow furrows but Kazimir only takes his wrist, fingers digging into the gray cloth and shakes his head. His hands are trembling as well._

 _A man takes his place at the raised podium in front of the orderly crowd._

" _It is my pleasure to inform you that the war is over, peace has come."_

 _There is a second of stunned silence before cheers erupt from the crowd. People all around him are crying and laughing and hugging and jumping. Exultant, in that moment Atsushi can almost feel like this was worth something, like there should be confetti and fireworks in the air and a crowd far larger than just them. Kazimir's hand tightens around his wrist. The man, their Chief of Staff, Atsushi realizes, raises his hand for silence._

" _This war has been hard on all of us and on you most of all. Your dedication, your loyalty and your hard work has done this country proud."_

 _The man takes a deep breath and movement in the corner of his eye catches Atsushi's attention._

" _Sacrifices have been made to get this far and we are so close-"_

 _There's a woman on a terrace. Her hands are trembling as she clutches her automatic. She shouldn't be able to see his face from that distance but still, her eye catches his-_

" _I must ask you to make one more. To bravely and honourably take up this last duty.-"_

 _and she raises her gun, the scope suddenly between them. Atsushi sucks in a breath, already-_

 _Fire."_

 _moving, instinct taking over even before Kazimir tugs hard on his arm. Shots scream overhead, slamming into the crowd. Someone raises a shield around the chief as the left side falls life dominoes. Abilities flare to life, people dying out like fireflies and supernova's, screaming, screaming, screaming. The voices and the gunshots meld together into an incoherent cacophony of sound that builds like a wall. An arc of flame scorches a line of shooters, enemies? maybe, they fall from the rooftops, desperately slapping at themselves. A flare of light glints off a scope and he stares at the woman wearing red and gray. No, he mouths. She doesn't listen, enemy? yes._

 _An impossible moment of clarity, staring at that shining scope._

 _They should have used a bomb._

 _The shot goes straight through his heart and his body erupts into silver-blue light as the Tiger breaks free._

… _._

 _For once, He and Atsushi are in tune, and He surges forward, snarling. The woman loads another bullet. He feels the lead fragments in Atsushi shift to the woman's will and jumps._

 _She doesn't get a second chance._

 _No other weapon can pierce His hide and He runs unhindered through the maze of active abilities. He leaps over the gifted humans and slaughters any that try to stop Him. There is no honour in this fight, no righteousness in their cause. It disgusts Him._

 _Behind Him the Angry One shouts something and arms reach for him. He twists, ready to buck them off, but they don't try to hold Him. Only leaping on His back for some sort of safety._

 _Puny weapons in puny hands, but enough, enough to pierce children's feeble flesh._

 _They fall, from His back and onto the floor and He keeps going. Atsushi screams, Go back, Go back, he yells. He doesn't listen._

 _Ten_

 _then eighteen_

 _then twelve_

 _fifteen_

 _nine_

 _Blue-eyed Alexander, eight and only a trainee._

 _Ten-year-old Elise who hurled a truck at her brother's killer._

 _Lyra capable of stepping out of her body._

 _Jamie, Fredrick, Rosette, Angelica, Bryn,_

 _He will not forget them._

… _._

 _Atsushi runs and runs and runs.)_

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.

.

Atsushi and the Tiger headed towards the river and took it down to the Sea of Azov and its sheltering mountains. He'll spend the next two years traveling until he saved the life of an odd man on the riverbank of Yokohama.

 _(This is how it ends:_

 _Atsushi is running along the bank of a river somewhere in Yokohama when he sees a body floating in the current._

 _He stops, and turns around.)_


	2. Chapter 2

It's too warm, the heat of this place makes him dizzy, the humidity sticking to his skin like syrup as he runs along the bank of the river. He thinks about dunking his head to cool off, maybe there would be fish. He can catch them with his hands or jury rig a fishing pole. He's so hungry. He can feel it in the weakness of his limbs, in the shakiness of his hands, in _His_ short temper. Atsushi feels claws press against the inside of his fingertips and the ache in his jaw where fangs are trying to grow. He considers the river but the thought of blood and fresh meat makes him change his mind. _He_ will take control soon enough, there isn't any point in inciting _Him_ to take it any earlier.

Tonight, as most nights before, someone was going to get hurt. He closes his eyes against the thought, tries to will away the tears and the exhaustion as his body sways forward even without any visual input. He had expected people to be after him, he had known this was going to be hard. No use crying over spilt milk.

The only way out was death and Atsushi had spent too long raging against that route to give into it now. He can steal from someone, jump the next person coming down the road and take their wallet. The thought makes his stomach turn, he's had nothing, he has nothing, doing that to someone else… no, he won't. He can stay still, he can sit on this bank and sleep before the rest of the world catches up to him. He can run. He turns to the choice he is most familiar with.

It is as he is preparing to speed up that he catches sight of something sticking out of the river like an obscure piece of driftwood. He pauses, legs trembling from exertion as he finally comes to a stop to take a closer look. It's a man floating in the river. Legs sticking out at awkward angles.

His body stiffens as sees, for just a moment, a river run red with blood, and people swimming, racing for the shore even if it means their sitting ducks in the open.

Oh god please make it.

He rushes forward, hands already outstretched, oh god please make it, please let me make it. But as he plunges into the water its not iron that meets his tongue but salt. He pushes the memories away long enough to grab on to the man's tan coat and tow them both to shore.

Soaking wet and still pushing away the past, Atsushi drags the body, onto land. Grimacing at the state of his only clothes, he looks over at the man he's saved, whose eyes snapped open as he sits up quickly.

"Umm?" Atsushi starts to speak. The man's face swings towards him.

"I was saved? Tch." The man arranges his body in a careless lounge, not bothering to get up as he stares at Atsushi.

"Were you the one that interrupted me from drowning?"

"Interup- excuse me, are you ok?" Atsushi doesn't understand what's going on. _He_ is snarling in his head, trying to get control, and Atsushi finds it hard to think past the sudden ache in his head.

"Unfortunately," The man replied. "I was trying to commit suicide and then you went and got in the way."

The back of Atsushi's neck prickles. Suicide, he thinks of Achim, at ten and twelve and thirteen, at just turned fourteen and a bullet carving so neatly through the roof of his mouth. Quiet and still and sobbing, 'I can't do this anymore.'

Atsushi doesn't know what expression his face has taken but something in it makes the man's features soften.

"Well," he says as he gets up, dusting off his pants like they aren't soaked with river mud. "My goal is a clean suicide that no one will be bothered by, but it seems I've erred and troubled you. Let me apologize."

The man's stomach growls loudly and Atsushi doesn't know whether to laugh at the timing or grimace in sympathy. He settles for politely ignoring it. The man stares at him, head cocked to the side. Atsushi wondered what he saw, a thin boy in a ragged black top and equally ragged jeans without any shoes. Lost to the river because Atushi hadn't thought to toe them off.

The _Tiger_ curls along his spine, peering out through Atsushi's eyes and stealing his muscles to growl in a way a human really shouldn't. Atsushi's abdomen aches with the vibration.

' _Dangerous,' He_ snarls, forcing Atsushi out of his thoughts, ' _let me control us.'_

He stiffens. Looking at the other man and praying he hasn't heard that.

Bringing his hand to cover his small smile the man inquires, "have you not eaten yet, young man?"

He doubts telling the man he hasn't eaten anything more substantial than a mouthful at a time in a month is anything he wants to hear so he makes an agreeing noise instead. His head still pounds and Atsushi wants to leave but the man keeps talking.

"Unfortunately I must have lost my wallet to the river, oh what a cruel and greedy mistress is she, but-" The decidedly odd man shoots him a conspiratorial glance. "I know just the man who would be glad to pay for a meal for us. Oh look, here he comes now."

"DAZAI! You goddamn suicidal idiot! Think about the people around you before you ruin their schedule by jumping into a river!"

"Kunikida! I've missed you too!" Dazai says cheerfully as if the man doesn't look like he would just as cheerfully strangle him.

The blond man on the opposite riverbank snarls, face reddening in anger as he waves what looks to be a small notebook around. Atsushi has to jerk hard on the instinct to shy away from that rage and jerk harder on the tiger's instinct to meet it.

Dazai, ignoring Kunikida's continued yelling, turns to him. "So what is your name young man, and what would you like to eat?"

Atsushi wonders what he should tell him, the name Artem sits like ash on his tongue, thrown away with the war. It's a relief, he thinks, to know it will always be Atsushi now. At the same time he wonders if any restaurant would serve pirozhki. Lyosha had cooked it sometimes, whenever they could, and it became a favorite. The ingredients are basic but he doubts he would find it here. Japan is rather isolationist in some ways and the dish originates too far away. Atsushi pushes away the pang of homesickness he feels for a country that had long since abandoned him.

If he couldn't have pirozhki then maybe he could have something else just as warm, he remembers the first meal he'd had when he came to this country, has tucked close the kindness of an older woman and the stove she kept in the back of her music store. Chopped seaweed on top of pickled plums and chicken floating on hot tea with salted kelp. A simple meal, but a good one. Much like pirozhki.

"My name is Nakajima Atsushi, and I guess I would like some Chazuke."

Dazai blinks in surprise and then burst out laughing. "A boy on the edge of starvation and he wants Chazuke. Alright then, Kunikida-kun will get you thirty bowls of that."

Atsushi probably should have felt worse about having someone spend so much money on him but the thought of that much food has him struggling to swallow the saliva that floods his mouth at the thought. He couldn't help but follow along even as Kunikida snarls vague threats in the background.

"So your name is Dazai?" Atsushi inquires, looking up at the taller man.

Dazai grinns down at him. "Yeah, that's my name. Dazai, Dazai Osamu."

In his head, the tiger settles into a hunters crouch and waits.

Dazai and Kunikida bicker all the way to the restaurant and even while eating. Atsushi ignores them for the most part. His world narrows down to the food in front of him and any sudden movements around him. He startles multiple times at Kunikida's harsh, flailing gestures, smiling hesitantly whenever one of them glances in his direction.

"We have been hired by the military police to exterminate a wild animal! We don't have time to be entertaining homeless people!"

Atsushi's fingers twitch around the chopsticks in his hands as he makes himself eat the last bites, ducking his head against the stares the three of them are attracting.

"So," he timidly interrupts before the shouting can grow louder, "are you guys... uh what's the word- exterminators? Animal control?"

"Not exactly," Dazai mutters. "We're detectives."

"Except we're not the kind that finds lost pets or investigates infidelities. Our field is in the wild cases, unusual murders and the like," Kunikida says. His hand slides to his thigh and Atsushi tenses, he hadn't seen a weapon but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Atsushi doesn't want to hurt these people. They're nice, they've fed him. He eyes the door even as he keeps most of his attention on the blond man.

"Have you heard of the Armed Detective Agency?"

Atsushi flickers his gaze towards Dazai. He has. A group of ability users sanctioned by the government to provide help where normal relief and police forces couldn't. He takes a moment to wonder if this is what the SATF would have been in a more civilian setting. If he and Kazimir could have sat beside each other and bickered like these two. The thought leaves him a little queasy and all at once he wishes he had chosen a dish that required a knife. The lack of any weapon was a phantom weight against his side, where his favoured 9mm CZ 75 used to sit.

Despite the way he tries to hide it they seem to sense his unease and it's as Kunikida is leaning forward, hand reaching for Atsushi, that Dazai speaks up again.

"That lintel seems sturdy, seems like it could even support a man's weight."

Kunikida turns on a dime.

"Don't hang yourself in tea shops you've just been to for the first time."

Atsushi is regretting his choice to follow Dazai. In his presence, Atsushi flips constantly between the wariness _He_ vibrates through his bones and complete bewilderment. And still, a part of him wants to play along, wants to savour this camaraderie, as weak as it is.

"How many times do you have to come before you can?"

They stare at him in silence for a second and Atsushi blushes.

"Neh~ that's a good question. If I come back a second time can I do it then?" Dazai turns expectant eyes to Kunikida.

"You either voluntarily shut up now or I strangle you in a minute." Kunikida growels.

"I'm just trying to put the poor boy at ease," Dazai tosses him a wink.

"There's a man-eating tiger that has been particularly destructive running around these past few weeks. He has destroyed several warehouses and food supplies, not to mention racked up quite the body count. Without a home you are particularly vulnerable. Don't worry though, we'll catch him sooner or later."

Atsushi can't hide the tremble in his hands as he folds them carefully into his lap. The food in his stomach turns sour at Dazai's words.

 _He_ stirs in Atsushi's head.

 _The man said he, he knows we are male, he likely knows it is us. Kill him._ Atsushi jerks his gaze to Dazai, looks into the man's shrewd eyes, and tastes bile in his mouth.

"And what will you do once you have it?" He asks.

It's Kunikida who answers.

"We've been ordered to put a stop to him, obviously."

He doesn't know, Atsushi thinks. He is wary, but he isn't smiling like he is the only one who knows a secret, he isn't smiling like Dazai is. Atsushi feels the itch to run in his legs, clashing painfully against _His_ urge to fight. This, surely, is what it was like to walk into that Hamlet square knowing exactly who was the target. Atsushi doesn't have the benefit of ignorance this time but still...

"I can show you where he is."

He watches surprise flit across Dazai's face, and swallows the bile in his mouth.

He is so tired of hurting people.

They get up and Kunikida pays, cursing Dazai the entire time. They leave the restaurant but when Kunikida makes to separate Atsushi snatches at his sleeve.

"Are you not coming?" He asks.

Both of the older men stare at him, he had moved just a hair too fast and Atsushi would be more worried but _He_ hasn't stopped roaring since Atsushi had said he would help. The conversations layer over each other, making Atsuhsi's head spin.

 _Traitor, He_ hisses.

"I'm going out to get some backup-"

 _You will not kill us! I will tear the flesh from their bones! I will devour their hearts!_

' _I wouldn't have to do this_ , Atsuhsi thinks fiercely, _if you had just stopped hurting people!'_

"I'll be back soon."

Atsushi goes to tell him to bring as many people as possible, wants to tell him to bring no one, that it was all a joke and he knows nothing, but fangs grow ruthlessly into his tongue and he has to swallow back the blood.

Atsushi brings Dazai to an empty warehouse at the edge of the docks and there is no back up when they arrive. They are at the warehouse and it is just him and Dazai and he thinks, I'm going to live, and he thinks, I will never go forgiven for this.

 _He_ calms at the sight, in the knowledge that _He_ would be let out in just a few minutes. It is a calm Atsushi dreads. He hopes fiercely that this man is as strong as Lyosha, as cunning as Natasha, as fierce as Kazimir.

"So, why would a boy like you go against the tiger?"

Atsushi swings his gaze to Dazai's, caught off guard by the question until he catches the glimpse of amusement. Games, the man wanted to play games. Atsushi was terrible at them, he only knew how to play solo. But Dazai is still looking up at him expectantly and Atsushi struggles, as he always had, for words.

"When I first met _Him_ I thought I couldn't live," he starts, "and _He_ said I could.

"And when I was at the orphanage they told me I was worthless and _He_ said I wasn't."

He feels _Him_ still, actually listening to Atsushi, he feels Dazai's eyes on him, intent in a way they weren't before. And he, it isn't that he wants pity, maybe sympathy, maybe someone to pat him on the head and say 'I understand'.

Years ago he had tried to explain to Lyosha, the tiger was blood and violence and the urge to hit first but _He_ wasn't evil. Not in the way Atsushi understood evil. The tiger was part of the reason Atsushi was so isolated, the tiger killed people with no regrets, but the tiger only wanted to live, the tiger has been the only one to tell Atsushi he was worthy enough to live. He didn't want himself or the tiger to die, and he didn't want anyone else to die either, but in reality both of those desires existed far apart from each other.

He hadn't had the words then, had only been able to say, 'To live is to be selfish.'

"But if that life only has worth by killing the people trying to take it.. than I don't think it really has any worth at all. At least, no worth I want to claim."

Dazai looks at him, half in the shadows, and his eyes are soft and fond like they hadn't been since that fleeting moment when Atsushi had trembled at his casual mention of suicide.

Atsushi smiles back, and prays this man will stop him.

 _You will not kill us, He_ says.

' _You will not kill at all._ ' Atsushi replies.

The moonlight is warm against his back, one last, soft caress before he's thrust into darkness.

 **.**

 **.**

He wakes muddled and confused, the tiger an icily furious presence in the back of his mind.

His bones shift in minute fragments before settling, expanding and contracting, growing and shifting as _He_ fights whatever compulsion keeps _Him_ from taking control.

Atsushi keeps the scream lodged in his throat quiet, a hiss of air the only sign of the agony racing through his body as it writhes between two states. The world is fuzzy when he opens his eyes, his grip on consciousness precarious.

His head is in someone's lap, warm fingers carding through his hair as the rolling motion of a car tries to send him to sleep, streetlamps streaking past the windows providing the only light.

"He's killed 32 people, Dazai. He's a liability and a killer."

Atsushi flinches. Dazai notices, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye and winking, fingers never stopping their gentle petting.

"He has no control over his ability, which isn't something you can fault him for. Not to mention he turned himself over to what could have been his death so that he wouldn't hurt anyone."

"You mean anymore." Kunikida mutters, thrusting a hand through his hair.

Atsushi turns his face into Dazai's lap, tears building in his eyes as exhaustion drags him down.

Distantly, he hears a sigh.

"Alright I'll back you with the President, but you're in charge of him."


	3. Chapter 3

Dazai-san and Kunikida-san bickered all the way to the restaurant and even while eating. Atsushi ignored them for the most part. A lifetimes of too little food left him with an appreciation for it that refused to allow him to talk while eating. He really only clued in when Kunikida-san slammed a hand on the table and shouted at Dazai-san, "we have been hired by the military police to exterminate a wild animal. We don't have time to be entertaining homeless people!"

Atsushi's fingers twitched around the chopsticks in his hands as he made himself eat the last bites. "So," he said carefully "are you guys... uh what's the word- exterminators? Animal control?"

"Not exactly," Dazai-san muttered. "We're detectives," he continued.

"Except we're not the kind that finds lost pets or investigates infidelities. Our field is in the wild cases, unusual murders and the like" Kunikida-san says. His hand slides to his thigh and Atsushi tenses, that's a common place for people to hide weapons and Atsushi didn't want to hurt these people. They were nice, they fed him.

"Have you heard of the armed detective agency?" Dazai-san's voice dragged Atsushi's focus from the escape routes he was contemplating. Atsushi thinks for a moment, he hadn't been in this country long. The instinct to run never let him stay still, the persistent echo of 'you're hunted' always lingering. But living in the darker areas, as he was prone too, he had heard a few things. The Armed Detective Agency is a band of detectives that specializes in cases where neither the military nor the police can be trusted. Much like SAFF, the employees had abilities that made them uniquely equipped to deal with the unusual and often dangerous cases they take on.

Atsushi played with the chopsticks that had come with the Chazuke and wished he had asked for something that required a knife. He would feel marginally safer with a weapon in his hands.

Dazai-san smirked as he looked up, "that lintel seems sturdy, seems like it could even support a man's weight".

Kunikida-san snarled "Don't hang yourself in tea shops you've just been to for the first time". Once again Atsushi was taken back by the odd man.

"No it's called neck-hanging hygiene. Don't you know that."

"Why would that need to be hygienic?"

Atsushi was regretting following Dazai-san. In his presence Atsushi seemed to constantly flip between the wariness the Tiger vibrated through his bones and the bewilderment of a man utterly out of his depth. But there was still something he needed to know before he made a run for it. Maybe North this time, now that he had an ocean between him and his past perhaps he could enjoy the cold again.

"You said you were hunting for a tiger?".

"There's a man eating tiger that has been particularly destructive running around these past few weeks. He has destroyed several warehouses and food supplies, not to mention racked up quite the body count. Normally it wouldn't be our job but seeing as he is very hard to find and anyone who does tends to end up dead. He needs a bit of a special touch so to speak and we were called in."

Atsushi can't hide the tremble in his hands as he folds them carefully into his lap. The food in his stomach turning sour at Dazai-san's words. It was rare that he remembered things from time spent as the tiger, it was a very real possibility that he had killed people. The most recent Turnings were more hazy than most, but he remembered enough to know who he killed. Mafia mostly, though that was no excuse, people dead were still dead people. Still people that he had killed.

"And what do you intend to do once you have captured this tiger?" Atsushi inquired.

Dazai-san gave him a shrewd glance. "We have been ordered to put him down". The real order had been to sedate it so it could be brought in for experimentation. But if his suspicion were true that would only run the boy off. Besides, the director was unlikely to let it happen once he'd learn the truth.

Atsushi wonders if he should tell them the truth, their ability users like himself. They'd have to be to be apart of the Detective Agency. But then there is the chance they would go easy on the Tiger, mistaking him and Atsushi to be the same thing. It had happened before, attackers believing the Tiger to somehow betray the pathetic human form it was once trapped in. It was always a mistake, and the Tiger didn't hand out second chances. Besides, there was always the possibility, however small, that once they had learned of this power they would want him to fight for them. By the time they realized that potential they would have no choice but to put down the Tiger coming for them. He wondered if this counted as suicide. He found he didn't really care.

"I can show you where he is."

He takes Dazai-san to an abandoned warehouse he had scoped out when he first got to the city. Kunikida-san had gotten a text that had him frowning and telling them he needed to go. He had shot Atsushi a narrow eyed look before shaking his head at Dazai and saying he would be back later. It had sounded vaguely threatening. The Tiger had snarled danger at him when he was left alone with Dazai-san, yanking hard at the fragile thread of control Atsushi possessed.

When Atsushi had inquired about back up Dazai-san grinned and said it would be along soon enough. Atsushi sighed. In his experience back up, if it was ever useful at all, wasn't useful unless it was already there. _He_ was far too quick otherwise and the only one able to hold _him_ off for the few minutes it took for Atsushi to take back control had been Lyosha. And even that had been due to a precarious mix of strength, experience and Atsushi's fondness of him.

He shrugged and didn't press the issue. Fighting the tiger was hard enough already without simultaneously trying to hold a conversation. His answers shortening to little more than grunts as the rising of the moon was marked in the lengthening of the tigers nails scraping against the inside of his fingertips.

It was a relief to be in the warehouse, the tiger calming in the knowledge that it would be let out in just a few minutes. It was a calm Atsushi dreaded.

"So, how did you come to know where the tiger would be?"

Atsushi had been waiting for the question, was rather surprised it hadn't come sooner. But it still managed to catch him just a little off guard. He walks over to the large crates shoved against the back wall. With the clouds blocking the moon through the window they look like large black stones. Only their regularity telling him otherwise. He buys himself time clambering on top them to sit down, and loses it thinking of the outcrop of rocks he used to crawl around as a child. Playing Fortress, and Rescue, and Tag and all the other games he learned to play alone.

But Daza-san was still looking up at him expectantly and he supposed it didn't matter what he said, none of it would mean anything soon.

"I lived in an orphanage for most of my life" Dazai-san's eyes sharpened in interest "When I was kicked out I traveled." He shrugged, "most people aren't kind to those without options. I spent most of my nights in back alleys and days wandering. Last night I broke in through the window hoping for somewhere out of the rain when I saw _him_. I figured he had come in for the same reason as me and that _he_ would return here."

Dazai-san smiles, amused and almost fond, says "You're lying'"

Atsushi smiles back, sadly, as the moon broke from the cover of the clouds, warm against his back

"I am"

He thinks of stopping it here, Dazai-san seemed like such a nice person. But it was too late and he was shrinking, dying, beneath the moonlight. By the time he reached Dazai-san he had already swapped hands for claws

From there it's only flashes, the sharp white glint of someone's teeth, the crunch of wood splintering under his paws, the oh so soft whisper of a touch against his forehead.

…..

He wakes muddled and confused, the Tiger an icily furious presence in the back of his mind. His bones shift in minute fragments before settling, expanding and contracting, growing and shifting as he fought whatever compulsion kept him from Turning. Atsushi kept the scream lodged in his throat quiet. A hiss of air the only sign of the agony racing through his body as it writhed between two states. The world was fuzzy when he opened his eyes, his grip on consciousness precarious. Dazai-san was looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"You knew?"

"Yes"

"I'm surprised"

That wasn't the reaction Atsushi had been suspecting, something more along the lines of anger and a beating. "Why?"

"Well I did mention I was here to kill you, that generally has people moving in the other direction." Dazai-san moved closer. Atsushi wondered if he would do the same thing if he knew how close to the surface _he_ was.

"But you wouldn't" Atsushi rasps.

Dazai blinks in surprise "No I wouldn't, how did you know?"

"I was the one to pull you out of that river." The clouds shift and the Tiger surges, clawing his way a little closer.

"Just because I want to be killed by my own hand doesn't mean I want to be killed by someone else's." Dazai-san replies. Reaching out to hold Atsushi wrist, his fingers against his pulse. The Tiger resides in a burst of agony.

"Or you don't believe you can be killed" Atsushi gasps.

Dazai-san blinks, "And why do you think that?"

"The only people who willingly go against the tiger believe they can't be killed."

"And how does that work out for them?" Dazai-san's grin is a sharp glint of white. Why was that familiar? Atsushi thinks muzzily.

"Not well, usually." Atsushi mutters. Too tired to continue the interrogation. His last thought as his surroundings sink into darkness is whether or not the soft embrace he felt was real. He doubted it.


	4. Cafe Conversations

**Chapter 4** **: Cafe Conversations**

Atsushi wakes up confused and throbbing. Whatever he is lying on is far softer than anything he's used before. His body sinks in and he takes a moment to enjoy it. He will pay for it later. Far too used to harder surfaces, his muscles will cramp painfully. The Tiger is still too close to the surface, still bruising from it's forced Turning how many hours ago. His entire body pulses in pain, in tune to the Tiger's wrath. He pushes it aside and allows himself a few seconds of peace. Breathes in the soft scent of wisteria from the sheets and enjoys the heat of the sunlight on his eyelids. Only a moment. And then it is over. And he panics.

He doesn't belong here. Not in this soft, warm bed. Not in this safe apartment that reeks not of fear but of comfort. Somewhere close by a phone rang and Atsushi jumps guiltily, for a reason he doesn't want to look at but knows is true. The same reason that tells him he isn't supposed to be here. Quickly, he straightens the sheets and blanket to military regulation and finds the phone by the bed on top of a pile of clothes. Holding it loosely in one hand he listens carefully, eyes roaming over the wide, empty space of the room but finds no one. Relaxing, he stares at the phone in suspicion. Experience has taught him to be wary of things he doesn't know and the last thing he remembers is passing out in front of a man that has previously stated his intention to kill him. Cautiously, he answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Atsushi-kun. How's your new dorm? Did you sleep well?"

Atsushi is briefly tempted to hang up. The overabundance of casual concern and interest in his health was... overwhelming. He doesn't really know what to say.

"Uhhm, er... thank you? But what do you mean my 'new dorm'? What happened?"

"Hmm, we'll have to see how much you remember and then we'll talk about it, okay? But first, put on the clothes, they should have been by the phone—it's a present from the people at the Agency by the way— also, I'm going to need you to do me a favour.

"I'm dying"

Confused and now worried, Atsushi quickly pulls on the pristine white shirt and black slacks. Barely remembering to pull on the shoes by the door before he chased after the fading scent of Dazai-san that lingered in the room, the Tiger's hackles rose as he caught the scent and Atsushi's teeth grinded in an effort to keep the growl in his chest. He followed the scent down two floors and out through the back door. Arriving to find only Dazai-san's head and feet sticking up out of a barrel really didn't clear up any of his confusion. He had the disconcerting feeling that he would be confused a lot around this man.

"Well don't just stand there, save me. Quick."

"Umm, what are you doing?"

"I heard there's this method of suicide" Atsushi twitched and Dazai-san's eyes narrowed just the tinniest bit before continuing cheerfully "and I couldn't wait to try it out!

"But it's not fatal, just really painful. I couldn't use my abdominal muscles at all, I kept slipping and got stuck eventually. I'm almost at my limit."

Atsushi's pretty sure that last remark was meant to get him to help quicker. But...

"Why would try such an obviously painful way to die?" In his experience active suicide was always done with a bullet, or a rope if there was anything sturdy enough around. There were, of course, the more subtle suicides for people who didn't want the dishonor. Throwing themselves in front of enemy fire or just not running away.

Dazai-san's head twists to the side. "Huh, you know, there's only been one other person that's given me that response." Does that mean Dazai-san has tried this method before? Or some other, equally painful method that he had someone else help him out of? And on the topic of other people, why pick him?

"Didn't you ask your colleagues for help?" Atsushi inquires as he hooks an arm around Dazai-san's shoulders and grabs his ankle with his free hand. A controlled heave later and Dazai-san is up and stretching his arms over his head happily in relief.

"I did" Dazai-san pouted "but all their responses were so mean!" His side long glance clearly prompted Atsushi to guess what the man's colleagues had said, probably. It is entirely possible Atsushi was misinterpreting, he had never been good with people.

He wondered what Kazimir would say, and took out the expletives.

"Have fun?"

"Correct. And multiple variations of!"

Atsushi wondered why he had found the man intimidating, the Tiger warned him appearances can be deceiving and Atsushi tried not to twitch at the reminder that the full moon was still far to close- behind him or not.

Before the conversation could get out of hand Atsushi asked where they where going to talk about what happened and Dazai-san told him he thought they could just walk around as he clued him in. Atsushi looked around the street skeptically. The time was before the noon break so the streets weren't overly busy but he wasn't sure he really wanted this conversation broadcast for anyone to hear. Dazai-san caught his look and laughed.

"We can go to a good cafe I know instead."

They don't talk again until they get there. Dazai-san leading him to a corner booth and ordering tea and bagels for the both of them.

Atsushi doesn't want to have this conversation. Doesn't want to talk about wounds to raw to be rubbed let alone ripped open. He focus' on the soft scent of the cafe, the mix of tea and coffee and fresh bread. He gathers strength from that casual tranquility, and he blurts out the fist thing that comes to mind; before he convinces himself running away is the better option.

"I wasn't lying"

Dazai-san looks up from where he was picking at his bagel curiously. He decides to play dumb, "About what?"

"The orphanage" Atsushi can't bring himself to meet Dazai-san's eyes, looks down at his tightly wringing hands. Three times clockwise, three times counterclockwise. "I did grow up in one." Dazai-san just nods, let's the silence fester between them for a little longer. The need to do something overrides his nerves and he finally pick up his bagel, slicing it into thirteen equal pieces and eating it in the small amount his twisting stomach demands. At the third bite Dazai-san smiles slightly, maybe just a bit smugly, and looks up from his tea as he speaks.

"Currently you're staying at an apartment in the building the agency owns."

Atsushi's eyes widen "Th-that's very generous of you, thank you!"

Dazai-san grins at him. "Neh, you shouldn't be so trusting. It does come at a cost you know." Atsushi immediately deflates.

"Right, of course."

Dazai-san laughs. "There isn't any need to look like I told you it's terminal, Atsushi-kun. You'll just do some work for us. A regular job, more or less. Well, more less than more."

Atsushi doesn't want to work for the Armed Detective Agency, not any detective agency really. Especially not this one. He knows, he knows, he know where this will end. Another weapon in the Agency's arsenal, another tool to be taken out and used at anothers convenience. He's tired, so tired, of these games.

He leans back, tells Dazai-san "I don't want to kill anyone."

Dazai-san's eyes widen comically. "Atsushi-kun! How could you think so badly of the agency! You'll be an assistant to the senior detectives. Typing out their notes and writing the reports, following them around like an overly large duckling. I'm sure you will enjoy it."

The attempt to put him at ease only makes him more uneasy. Lyosha had been the only one to do that. And most of the time they had both been aware that he was lying when he told Atsushi things would be ok, or at least not as bad as Atsushi's anxiety driven thoughts made them out to be. He much preferred it when people where brutally honest. So he didn't have to guess their real motivations, didn't have to obsess over them until he had convinced himself of some truly horrible reality. He wanted to say no, but after attacking Dazai, after using Dazai to stop the Tiger and causing the man so much trouble he didn't think he had the right to.

"Alright" Atsushi says meekly, avoiding Dazai-san's eyes. The elder man rests his chin on his hand. Starring at Atsushi as he says "Well, I didn't expect that to be so easy."

It irritates him. That he thought anything about his was easy.

"Why am I here." At Dazai-san's questioning look he continues. "You said you were being sent to kill the Tiger. It was well within your capability to do so and yet I am still here."

"Well" Dazai-san starts "killing a Tiger is very different from killing a person." No it isn't, Atsushi think, death was a very universal concept.

Dazai-san leaned forward like he was about to share a secret, his eyes twinkling a dark unreadable brown in the low lighting of the cafe. "Much more paperwork." The second of anticipation disperses and Atsushi sighs. He doubted he would get anymore straight answer from the enigmatic brunette so he nodded in acceptance of the odd logic. Preferring to take it at face value then tease out any kind of real meaning.

They don't talk further. Kunikida-san comes in and Atsushi loses the chance to ask the question hovering near the tip of his tongue.

Why, if he knew that Atsushi was the Tiger, would he go alone?

Why was he so intent on suicide and yet never took the route that would actually kill him?

Why did is he attempting to save Atsushi?

His curiosity can wait, though. Because there is a bomber and a hostage at the Agency and their both dragging Atsushi down the street. He doesn't say anything but he finds it odd Kunikida-san would stop to mess around with Dazai-san in such a serious situation.

He attempts to them he isn't qualified for this. He really, really isn't. But neither of them listen. It doesn't help that at the mention of a bomb he jerks hard at Atsushi's control. The Tiger remembered what it was like to have Atsushi's insides painted in a hand grenade spray against the wall. He isn't eager to repeat the experience. Atsushi isn't either.


	5. Counting Down

" **Enough, I've had enough**." The man trembles as he holds what must be the trigger in his hand. " **It's your fault. All your fault, Where's the Director! Get him out here! Now! Or else I'll blow everything sky high with this bomb!"**

The girl that's kneeling by his feet screams. As much as she can with the improvised gag in her mouth. Atsushi would give them that it was a stunning performance. But they didn't have the fear scent, the one that made it so easy for the Tiger to pick out prey. It's fake. All of it.

But.

There's a bomb. It looks real (but it isn't), it doesn't smell real, no stinging gun powder or acrid chemical (but what if it is?). He doesn't know (yes he does), can't decide (it's really just that he won't, because one side means he kills everyone in this room and even though the odds are fifty-fifty he isn't willing to risk it here).

"A grudge" Kunikida-san mutters. "He will set off that bomb if he doesn't see the director". Liar, the Tiger snarls. For his own sanity, for the safety of everyone at the agency Atsushi believes him. He knows exactly what he would do if that bomb actually went off.

"We do tend to make a lot of enemies" Dazai-san whispers as he peers around the corner of the counter they hide behind.

He pulls back and continues talking. "Ahh, those are high explosives, they'll take out the entire room at least". Atsushi twitches at the automatic surge of adrenaline at those words.

Liar, liar. Kazimir's ghost croons into his ear.

Dazai proposes they let him meet the director. "He would be dead in seconds you fucking idiot!" Kunikida sneers, "besides, he's away on business. He couldn't have come even if we called".

Atsushi fights the urge to move away, to distance himself from the noise that would get him caught.

"In that case, we're going to have to find a way to rescue the hostage". That should be easy, Kazimir snickers, since she isn't in all that much danger. Not seeing the young boy Atsushi so clearly can Dazai-san and Kunikida-san stare intently at each other for a few second before abruptly thrusting their closed fists towards each other. Atsushi jumps at the motion. Kunikida-san still holds out a fist, but Dazai-san has his fingers stretched wide. Dazai-san grins, Kunikida-san grits his teeth.

You sure know how to pick them, Natasha says sarcastically from somewhere outside his field of view. Atsushi hides his trembling fingers in his palms. He wants to sit on his hands, but the thought of restricted movement makes him uneasy. Hearing both Kazimir and Natasha at the same time is never a good thing.

Kunikida stalks forwards and out of the corner of his eye he see's Dazai throw the boy an assessing glance.

"Hey" Kunikda-san puts his hands up, "you need to calm down."

The man immediately jerks away from him. "Shut up! Don't come close to me, or I'll blow you up!". He points the hand holding the trigger at Kunikida-san and keeps talking. "I know who you are, I know who works here. You don't get to try you're bullshit negotiation tactics on me."

"Atta" Dazai murmurs "that's going to be a problem. If he know everyone at the agency none of us will be able to talk him down."

Suddenly he looks over at Atsushi, slashes that sly, gleaming white smile at him. Atsushi feels a shiver go down his spine. Not predator, hewhispers, but something close. The Tiger had only ever said that about one person before.

"This is the actual opposite of what I'm qualified for", is his last attempt to convince Dazai-san he isn't the person to do this. Because he really, really isn't.

. . . . . . .

Staring up at the man Atsushi swallowed the roar in his throat, muscles quivering around the sound in effort.

"A-ah, h-hello. I'm- I'm just an unassuming newspaper boy!"

Somewhere behind him is the sound of a palm slapping against a face and Atsushi cringes internally. That was bad, really bad. He had told them he wasn't any good at this. His mouth dries as he looks at the bomb, his fingers trembling. Claws scrape against the insides of his fingertips, his ribs creak like old timber beams as the Tiger struggles to the surface. And then he pauses. Snarls. But retreats.

Atsushi is left confused, and relieved. He had been right. The girl truly wasn't scared and the man was not angry. And the device on the table smelled of neither gunpowder nor chemicals. It was a hoax.

Kazimir snorted softly. When will you stop being so gullible. Their clearly testing you.

Atsushi didn't want to believe him, Dazai-san and Kunikida-san had been so kind to him. But Kazimir had always been so much better at determining people's intentions.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks and tries not to accuse. He had always hated tests. It seems to take the man aback, Atsushi tells himself it's because he hadn't anticipated someone to question him, not that Atsushi wasn't playing his part right. He continues.

"What has pushed you to this point? Where you are willing to kill yourself just to spite someone else?" Soft little Elzebel with a grenade in her hand, not caring who was caught in the blast if only she would stop hurting.

The man finds his voice. "The agency promised me they would find my sister, but they didn't. They lied and now she's dead and it's all their fault!"

Atsushi isn't arrogant enough to think he's seen suffering in all it's forms, but he has seen this one before. Has felt it, too. The man needed someone to blame so he was lashing out at the first person he could. Kazimir had been like that. Never really thinking things through.

"Do you think you have a monopoly on pain? That your revenge is worth some else's life? Someone elses bond with their loved ones, someone else's happiness? Their pain? Isn't it a little arrogant of you to assume your hurt supersedes all others. I am sorry that you have been hurt and I am sorry that you have been pushed to this point but i can't let you go through with this."

He doesn't quite care what he is saying, what he is reveling about himself. He just needs to buy a little times. And most people are shocked when their prejudices and wrong doings are so blatantly pointed out. Well, their shocked until the anger settled in. He had learned quickly, in that house, in that orphanage, in that war, how and when to keep his mouth shut. But the reverse is also true.

He smiles then, a little kindly, a little sadly.

"Ah you see it's because I'm a little selfish that I want this life to continue. So I can't let you go through with this."

The Tiger slips his leash just a little. The man's eyes widen, body freezing instinctively as the fear of an approaching predator washes through him. Behind Atsushi, Dazai-san's eyes, narrowed in sly contemplation, widen also. Not in surprise, but with the delight of a new puzzle to solve.

Atsushi shoots forward, hand griping the bombers wrist so hard it goes numb and drops the trigger.

It feels so anti-climactic. It feels like an accomplishment and like an incompetence. He had succeeded, but it wasn't real, he hadn't lost control but the effort was sickening. Where before adrenaline had held him he now only felt the yawning pit of aching, deadened exhaustion.

Dazai-san stands up and claps his hands.

Kunikida-san sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

The creeping feeling of something wrong crawls across the hair along the back of Atsushi's neck.

What is wrong? (1.55)

Sunlight streams in through the open window.

What is it? (1.43)

Dazai-san slaps Kunikda-san on the shoulder and nimbly plucks the handcuffs from the table beside him. Kazimir stands by his side, grim instead of sly.

Why am I- (1.02)

The bomber is smiling. Natasha is staring angrily at the bomb and

Atsushi looks-

at the numbers (0.95)

quickly (0.76)

counting (0.48)

down. (0.33)


	6. Chapter 6

He stares at the bomb and thinks, this is what drowning feels like. The distant thump-thump of his heart somewhere not in his chest, the agonizing effort of moving deadened limbs around the heavy water. And then, the Tiger, roaring to life around his veins and moving him forward. A deadly tug-of-war turned into a russian roulette because every moment of lost control is a moment closer to when he won't be able to get it back. But the world disappears around him even as he tried to move forward.

It is the soft tick-tock, tick-tock that throws him back into his war, not- as he would have thought- the bomber or the adrenaline or even the bomb itself. It is the slow, crawling countdown that haunted him all his life. That soft snick-snick of the second hand going round and round.-

 _He's at Kerenza. None of the trainee's in his division had been taught how to a disarm a bomb. The only advice they had gotten, given by a smirking instructor, was that they would hear it by its countdown. It was a joke, because most bombs didn't have an audible counting mechanism, they were specifically designed to be silent. You were lucky if you heard the snick as it discharged under or beside or over you. But it had followed him, this awful, awful joke. Until he heard it in his head as he sat before the bomb in front of him. It's metal skin peeled back and it's wired guts spilled halfway across his lap as he tried to perform this delicate surgery blind and without the chance to study the night before. And because this was war, and no one had the time to tell him it was the red wire not the blue one, when it detonated, it took him and three others with it. His intestines wet and squishy next to it's shiny plastic chrome but with the same stench of copper heavy in the air.-_

Someone is reaching for him, _army helmet_ and dark brown hair. _Combat boots_ and a pale beige coat. It's Dazai-san, mouth opening and closing in words Atsushi can't make himself understand. But the older man is stalking towards him and that is such a bad idea, why would he do that, doesn't he know there's a bomb, he needs to move away, he can't end up like Dan, _he cannot end up like Dan_.

The clock is reading 0.05 when Atsushi throws himself into motion. Tossing the bomber over his shoulder directly into Dazai-san's path as he scoops the bomb into his other hand. The hostage jerks back in shock but runs forwards and Atsushi wants to just scream at all of them to _get back_ and _run away._ But the words lodge in his throat like the roars he spent years trying to contain.

He puts a heavy oak desk flush against a wall instead, hides in the small foot space to put some kind of a buffer between them and him as he curls around the device in his hands. He counts down the seconds.

5

He contemplates crushing it, but what rudimentary knowledge he has tells him this will only speed up the impending explosion and he is scared enough of death that he doesn't want to speed up its meeting even now.

4

The Tiger fights viciously for control.

3

The silence rings loudly in his ears

2

Kazimir smirks and tells him "I told you so" and the Tiger swears to kill them all.

1

Nothing happens.

A dud. His mind supplies. Kazimir laughs, the Tiger snarls, a trick, a test. They don't trust you. Atsushi wants to say he's surprised but he isn't, he doesn't want to say he's angry but he is. Embarrassment races through him as he imagines them all laughing behind his back, he wants to stay here, in this corner. So he doesn't have to face them and their laughter and the humiliation.

The decision is taken out of his hands when the desk is moved back and Atsushi winces at the slice of light haloing Dazai-san's head.

"Wow, I knew you were stupid but I didn't think you were that stupid."

Blood fills his mouth as his teeth tries to change to fangs, the bomb- the dud- crumpling under his grip. Kunikida-san's words hurt in the way of an expected blow, his faults were never not something to be pointed out.

Dazai-san cocks his head to the side, opening his mouth like he is about to say something but the "hostage" barrels into the "bomber".

"Nii-san! Are you ok? Did he hurt you!?"

She presses tightly against the man, ignoring him as he tries to squirm away.

"I'm ok! It was kind of sweet actually, he tried to pull me away from the danger."

Ignoring the scene these two actors are making Kunikida-san glanced at the mess of punctured metal in Atsushi's hand.

"If you're going to be angry at anyone be angry at Dazai, he was the one who wanted you here."

Dazai-san swings an arm around Kunikda-san's shoulder, grin manically wide and grip tight enough to bruise.

"Actually, I thought this was excessive. I said we should allow him to join right away."

A cocktail of rage and pleasent surprise swirls in Atsushi's gut at those words, along with the blood still lingering in his mouth. He doesn't believe him, not really, not when this has shown him that the Detective Agency is not something to be trusted with his feelings or his control, the only reason this didn't end in a bloodbath was the tenuous control he had over the Tiger.

Dazai-san crouches before him, taking a hold of his wrist and moving his hand away from the ruined dud.

"You passed the exam when you proved yourself willing to die for other people's safety. When you turned yourself in under the impression you would be killed so the tiger couldn't rampage anymore."

Kunikida-san tisked under his breath behind Dazai-san but didn't contradict him. It was to bad Atsushi had already decided, getting up and hiding the shaking of his hands by wrapping them tightly around himself.

"Letting me work here is very… generous of you, but I'll have to decline."

Ignoring the look of surprise on the faces of the actors and the raised eyebrows of Kunikida-san he walk out the door and tries very hard not to slam the door.

Atsushi's down the stairs in seconds, would have been down the street in less if he hadn't nearly tripped over a cat that had tried to twine around his legs the second he opens the door.

Yelping, he grips the doorframe, not hearing it snap as he tries to avoid stepping on the feline's tail.

"Yo! Atsushi!" Dazai-san calls from the landing, skipping down the stairs and raising an eyebrow at the damage to the doorframe.

"You ran out of there so fast I didn't get a chance to persuade you to stay."

Atsushi can already feel the tension building in the base of his neck.

"That's kinda the point," he mutters.

"Hmm?" Dazais-san hums, something vaguely menacing in his tone. Atsushi quickly switches tracks.

"Thank you for the opportunity, really it means a lot to me. But I've been forced to be around people who don't like me before and it always makes everyone miserable. It's clear that they don't want me there so... I'll just… go."

Atsushi wants to tell him he had hoped Dazai-san would help him control the Tiger, wants to tell him what it felt like, the pain/betrayal/anger/grief that came with the realization that he was tricked, wants to tell him that he's lived his entire life with so little control he didn't know what to do with what he had, wants to scream at him for daring to try to take it away, for putting him back in that place where the world is blurred and every action isn't his except in every way that mattered. Because he knew, from the moment he met Dazai-san that the man was intelligent, enough to know what would happen to someone with his kind of ability, and the fact that he allowed it to happen anyways told him everything he needed to know. He had thought, he had hoped.. For a few moments there were so many things he had hoped.

So Atsushi stands there for a moment, shoulders hunched up to his ears as he shuffles backwards. Dazai-san cocks his head to the side, eyes drifting down to where the cat purrs around Atsushi's legs.

Dazai-san stares at him for a long moment, and it's as if everything Atsushi feels is written on his face for the older man to see, because he rocks backwards on his heels. and his look is so penetrating Atsushi can almost fool himself into thinking he is hearing everything Atsushi can't say.

"Well," Dazai-san shrugs, shaking off that genius intellect and pasting on that cheery , bumbling shell, "guess i can't stop you, buuut I thought i'd warn you that you're being followed."

"W-what? No I'm not." He would have noticed.

Dazai pauses, tilts his head to the side, grins.

"Alright so maybe I was fibbing a bit. Not that it matters too much, seeing that even if someone's not following you now they will be soon."

That's not actually an unusual situation for Atsushi, he'd had a bounty on him the minute he deserted the army and more than a few people had tried to cash in on it. Not that that got them anywhere but a lot of bruising or an early death depending on the amount of control Atsushi had at the time. He shrugs, a little disconcerted with the concern.

"I'll figure something out Dazai-san. I think I might go north."

He bends down and scoops up the cat, laying it across his shoulders as he tries to move down the street. Dazai-san shamelessly blocks him just as the sound of someone racing down the stairs reaches his ears.

It is the man who played the part of the bomber, his ginger hair flying into disarray as he stumbles to a stop in the landing, taking a deep breath as if he's about to say something before pausing in confusion as he sees the damage to the door. Atsushi tries to inch away without looking too guilty. But the man shakes his head and lunges forward to grab one of Atsushi's hands in his own, Atsushi jumps at the movement.

"I am so sorry, I honestly feel so terrible but they asked me to do it and I couldn't say no because they said it was important for the security of the agency and-"

The man continues to baable and Atsushi shoots Dazai-san a panicked look, tugging his hand in an attempt to get away. The cat solves the problem for him by swiping it's claws along the man's knuckles- eliciting a yelp- and hissing. There's a squeal of outrage from inside the building as the hostage, the actor, comes roaring out and yanking the man away, hissing right back.

"Naomi!" The man protests.

"Hmp, that stupid stray shouldn't have tried to scratch you."

Dazai laughs. "Here how about this, you two take Atsushi to the cafe and I'll catch up with you in a moment."

Even as the two nod a protest builds in Atsushi's throat.

"You wouldn't deny them a chance to properly apologize, right Atsushi?" Dazai-san smiled with mischief in his eyes, no doubt ready to go on if Atsushi tried to insist. Atsushi considers denying them anyway. But he makes the mistake of looking into the man's eyes and his confidence trips, slips through him fingers and his refusal dries in his mouth. A shiver rattles him inside, the familiar taste of bile in his throat, this is shame.

He smile weakly, nods, this is resignation.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys, I'm sorry I forgot about this for so long. To be honest I update my ao3 file more often (same story and name) just cause I'm on that site more, but enjoy the two chapter!

"I'm so sorry!" The man nearly shouts. Atsushi flinches back. Naomi stays practically in her brothers lap and nods empathetically.

"I didn't want to do it but they said I had to and-"

"There's no need to apologize Tanizaki-san. You did exactly as you were told and finished the job". Kunikida-san says as he walks up to the booth.

"It was still pretty terrible of me". Tanizaki-san muttered.

And Atsushi wants to be angry with him, but Tanizaki-san had really apologized and he'd been kind, and Atsushi, he remembered what it was like to be under someone and to do things he didn't want to.

"Neh, Kunikida you're being too serious. If it drove Atsushi to quit maybe he should apologize", Dazai-san calls as he walks in to the corner cafe, voice heedlessly loud and drawing a few stares. He smells like iron, and the hot tang of gunpowder.

Kunikida-san stiffens and purses his lips, Atsushi gets the sense he's missing something but not really what. There's something sharp in the curl of Dazai-san's smile and only his three coworkers seem to understand just what. He shifts slightly, ducking his head and he doesn't see Dazai glance over before nudging Kunikida.

"Kid", He says.

Atsushi looks up through his eyelashes.

"I'm not going to ask you again and you won't get another chance. Join the agency."

Dazai-San raises an eyebrow at Kunikida-San.

"How about this" Dazai-san says.

"We have paid for your apartment for the month, if you had joined the agency the money to keep it would have been taken from your paycheck automatically, since you haven't you have till the end of the month to either find a new job or we convince you to stay on with us."

Atsushi almost wants to snort, it hadn't escaped his notice that Dazai-san carefully hadn't mentioned his desire to leave the city, or even framed it as an option.

"If you want I'll even help you manage the tiger."

That… the tiger roared to life in the back of his mind. No, it growls, and Atsushi's vision is narrowed to the painting to the left of Dazai-san's head. His hearing going hazy as he tries desperately to keep his trembling under control. Ok, he silently whispers. Pain shivers along his nerves as _He_ retreats.

"-ushi-kun, Atsushi-kun." Dazai-san calls.

Atsushi looks up to three concerned faces. He tucks his trembling hands away and avoids their gaze.

"I would like some time, to- to think it over," he pauses, "please," he whispers.

"Of course." Dazai-san immediately agrees. "I'll walk you to your apartment."

Atsushi wonders if this is just another way of assuring he doesn't escape but nods anyway.

. . . . .

That night Atsushi dreams of bombs.

He wakes up with a scream trapped between his teeth and quietly, so quietly ( like always, because he remembers that girl, the one with ears like a fucking birds and an eyesight to match who could always hear them, no matter how quiet they were, who they could sometimes hide from and run from but could never _outrun_ ) because the bombs were still falling behind his eyes, ringing in his head as they hurtled towards-

He reaches the bathroom doorway on his knees and crawls inside to hang his head over the edge of the tub and heave. He can't find the coordination to take off his clothes so he doesn't bother. Tripping into the shower as Kazimir laughs in his ear he slaps the overhead on and watches the water wash the bile down the drain.

Panting, he curls in on himself, clenching his hair between his fingers and pressing his fists against the sides of his head, his forehead against the porcelain bottom of the tub. He's shaking, flying apart and he's certain he can hear screams over the sheets of water. Layered over his vision Natasha croons lullabies to a freshly legless little girl.

The Tiger rises in his head and his hearing sharpens until every drop of water feels like a drumbeat and every breath a gale, every rasp of his clothes a shriek. The noise gathers in his head until he can't think of anything else and his ears ring painfully and the bile pooling in his throat is only from the pain.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, he thinks he looked at a clock but he can't remember the numbers. The sky is still dark when he stumbles and he can't find Natasha or Kazimir anywhere, his heart palpitates painfully in his chest with emotions he can't name or know and a distance springs up between him and the world.

He watches his hand reach towards his phone, press a half remembered sequence.

He's calling Dazai.

"Hello?"

Atsushi holds his breath, the world rushing back in and suddenly aware of what a mistake this is. He doesn't even know what he wanted from this, thinks he might be able to explain if only he could articulate the words.

"...Atsushi-san?"

There is some nameless feeling inside him, pulsing tight in his gut and hot in his throat. He thinks it's fear.

"... I- I'm sorry."

Those are the only words he knows to say.

There is a soft exhale over the phone. Regret? Irritation? Anger? He can't know what the older man is feeling unless he's in front of him, but the thought of seeing Dazai-san like this, this vulnerable, this scared, this utterly fucked up, threatens to make him sick again.

"About what, Atsushi?" Dazai-san says.

"I don't want to do this, let me go." The words are a breathless rush.

There is a crackle over the line as the older man moves. A long moment where the only sound is soft footsteps, Atsushi briefly entertains the image of the man picking up a belt before the delicate chink of china banishes it.

"Is running really something you can afford to do?" Dazai-san finally responds.

That nameless something flares brighter, stronger. He looks at his trembling fingers and thinks, _oh, not fear, anger_

"I saved your life".

For all his anger it is a plee, a last shot at making him leave it alone, from pushing too hard. Even as he says it he know it won't matter, that it never mattered to the people who want something and would matter even less to someone who threw it away in the first place. There is a soft chuckle and he knows Dazai recognizes this, he wonders how many people have tried to save and use it against him. It makes him feel guilty but he won't back down, not in this.

"What do you want from me?" Atsushi asks.

"It's less what I want from you then what I want from myself" Dazai says.

"...What?"

There is more soft laughter over the phone and Atsushi's fingers unclench around the casing, he thinks he could get used to the gentle sound. Could come to not except some kind of pain to follow.

"A long time ago someone made me promise to be good, this is me, trying."

Atsushi feels the hot curl of anger quiet inside him, and something that has the potential to be a deep sadness take its place.

"You're trying to manipulate me" he says, needing something lighter than the weight of this conversation.

"I am, just a little. Was I not being obvious enough?"

Atsushi huffs, at least the man was honest. It counted for something, it had to count for something.

There is a knock on the door and he startles, nearly dropping the phone. Pulling it back to his ear he whispers for Dazai-san to hold on as he peers through the peephole only to find Dazai-san in front of his door. The man is holding a gently steaming cup of tea, chamomile from the scent drifting through the bottom of the door, and a faded paper back that he waves back and forth in silent greeting. Atsushi scrambles to unlock and open the door and Dazai-san breezes through, pressing the tea into his hands. The moonlight glows against the man's skin, turns black coffee eyes a warm brown as he settles into one of the two armchairs beside the living room windows. Unsure and confused about what to do he sits with his back against the wall, and, wrapping his hands around the cup, watches the passage of the night through the movement of moonlight on his floor. Occasionally flicking glances up at the odd, impossible man reading in his home.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey, there's stuff to be said, the oc is kind of important, I haven't updated for a while whoops, there's probably more but it's late and I'm sick so I'm stopping here. Enjoy.

He wakes up alone and with a crick in his neck. A note on the side table tells him Dazai-san has left for the ADA and that he should ask Tanizuka and Naomi about where to find any work.

His eyebrows rise, Dazai-san had seemed so set on Atsushi joining the ADA.

Scrolling through the contacts on his phone, something he still can't believe Dazai-san bought for him, he calls Tanizuka-san.

"Hello?"

"Oh, um hi it's Atsushi?"

"Hi! Something I can help you with?"

"Dazai-san said I should talk to you about getting a job?"

"I'd be happy to help Atsushi-san, just let m- ah aH Naomi! Not there!- I'll meet you out front, k? Sorry, Bye."

Tanizuka-san hangs up, cutting off Naomi-san's giggles. Atsushi takes a moment to stare at his phone in bewilderment.

He meets the both of them outside, smiling in greeting. They tell him about what is needed and expected when getting a job and overall the news is… disheartening.

"You don't have any paperwork? Not even a birth certificate?"

Atsushi shrugged helplessly, feeling shame pool in his belly.

"If the orphanage kept records I was never informed and I wasn't given any when I was thrown out" he says.

It's a white lie, no one _had_ ever told Atsushi about the records kept and no papers had been given to _him_ when he was sold to the army, but it sits heavy in his chest anyways.

"That's terrible, I suppose there are a few places where you could get work. The docks maybe, but that'll be really shady"

The sympathy in Naomi's gaze only makes him want to shrink away but telling the truth would mean talking about the orphanage, about the army, about _deserting_ the army and even the thought makes a cold sweat break out at the small of his back so he lets the moment for truth pass.

"That's fine, I can do heavy work and sometimes lower entry or temporary jobs don't mind. There was a promising place I was thinking about but… it's too far away to walk everyday and I don't have the money for the commute." He could use the _Tiger's_ speed to make it if he had to, but Atsushi already knew how dangerous it was to constantly rely on _his_ power.

"You didn't ask Dazai-san?" Tanizuka-san questions.

"Ah, he left before I had the chance, but I wouldn't have asked anyways. I just, I get the feeling that I would end up in his debt for life?" Well, more that Atsushi already was, at any rate.

The way the siblings laugh doesn't reassure Atsushi at all.

"Tell you what," Naomi-san gasps, "guess what we were before joining the agency and I'll pay for the ticket, free of charge. You can ask for an advance after that."

He glances at them, lips quirking upward. He's not about to say he thinks she's going easy on him on purpose.

"Were you students?" He asks.

"That's right! How did you know?" Naomi-san asks.

"Err, you're still wearing your uniform Naomi-san, and Tanizuka-san doesn't look old enough to be out of school yet."

"Great Deduction!" They both chirp.

They say it like a tune to an inside joke and it makes something both bittersweet and yearning stretch out in his chest as he wonders, if he stayed, would he be let in on it?

They take the train south out of Yokohama and then up inland into the sprawling metropolis in the mountains foothills. The siblings look around wide eyed as he takes them through a crawling maze of main throughways and back alleys until they arrive at a small shop at the heart of the city.

A bell chimes merrily as he opens the door and a strong but ancient voice calls out.

"So you're back, huh, Boy? Would you like some chazuke?"

He grins, "Always, Oba-san."

The older woman behind the counter smirks at him even as her sharp eyes appraise his companions.

"You say that like I look old."

As always Atsushi feels a little sheepish. He hadn't known the difference between Oba and Obaa when he'd first come to Japan, something Hibiki-san had been all too happy to mercilessly tease him about, but the words had come with his first bowl of chazuke and so Atsushi had stuck around here as long as he'd stuck around anywhere.

He's tempted to linger, to slide his fingers over the keys of the grand piano by the front window or inspect the varnish on one of the dozen violins hanging on the wall, even _he_ curls in contentment at the thought of listening to Atsushi play a few chords, but he knows it would only be procrastinating and it wouldn't be fair to drag Tanizuka-san and Naomi-san all the way here for nothing. He ignores _the tiger's_ irritation as steps away from the piano, focusing instead on the softening of Hibiki-san's eyes as he walks up to her.

"Looking for a job, then?"

"Yeah," not what he'd done before, that had brought too much publicity to ever make him comfortable, but "grunt work mostly, installation, tuning, cleaning, opening and closing, if it's not too much trouble."

She grins at him, "you played so beautifully for me though, brought in customers from across the city."

He winces as Naomi-san squeals.

"You play an instrument? How good are you?"

Hibiki-san laughs. "He had more customers signing up for lessons the week he played here than in the entire month before."

He loses them from there. He does try to get them back on track, but Naomi-san is more interested in getting stories and, when Atsushi politely but firmly refuses to give a live performance, watching recordings. Tanizuka-san is the only one with any sympathy for him as they both retreat to a corner to wait as the two women squabble over details.

He dwells on her last words the entire way back to Yokahama.

"Those clothes look good on you, Atsushi."

Not even the quiet approval in her eyes could make his smile feel genuine when he looks at his reflection in the windows, _the tiger_ staring back at him.

…

It's dark by the time they actually arrive back in the city. The siblings had wanted to play tourist and Atsushi was too grateful for their company to deny them.

Maybe that is why, full of chazuke and streetside sweets he doesn't hear the quiet click of a gun until it is nearly too late. He doesn't even realize what he's heard until his mind slides back into 6 months of training and near 5 years of war, the familiar rush of _his_ power filling his body until his senses triple and time slows to a hazy crawl.

They were in the middle of an ally, a stupid decision in hindsight, but Atsushi has been caught in the open too many times to ever be comfortable in wide streets, when a woman steps out into its opening. She smells of gunpowder, the rusty scent of old blood and the citrus of her shampoo; it's a nauseating mix.

Her smile is twisted in triumph as she speaks into her phone.

"I found him, boss"

A subordinate, he thinks, someone not important if they sent her to him alone. There's no footsteps behind her, no muffled breathing, if she wasn't pointing a gun at him he'd feel bad for her.

He barely catches the response from someone on the other line. He had five minutes to wrap this up and get out. That was fine, he'd done far more with less.

She's speaking again, something about killing them, a master? Probably whoever it was she called, not important right now, there isn't any cover here.

She's raising her gun, two pistols, semi-automatic, a submachine gun would have been better in these close quarters and where he might have had trouble dodging a smg he can be gone before she even gets the pistols level with her chest but the siblings, the civilians.

She has her finger around the trigger and their not even budging, just standing there and right, right, this is why he hates babysitting civilians.

He leaps forward. Grabbing Naomi-san in one hand and Tanizuka-san in the other and shoves them to the side.

The gun fires, once, twice, not quite that rat-a-tat-tat but close enough to make him shiver.

A bullet slams into his shoulder. That's one.

She shifts her aim, he leaps back, dragging the siblings shocked dead weight behind him and heaving them back down the alley. They land with a jarring thud but no telling crack of broken bone. His shoulder is already closing up.

Another bullet nicks his leg. That's two.

He wants to zig-zag, wants to dodge this pain like he knows he can, like _the tiger_ is demanding he do, but the siblings are right behind him and they can't move so quickly. Dumb move, he thinks, bad planning, no cover.

He faces her, a bullet hits center mass.

Third shot, he thinks.

Please no, he pleads.

But _the tige_ r has already flooded his arm, each wound another bar off _his_ cage, jerking him forward even as Atsushi tries to plant his feet and the woman's right hand is just gone, they both stare at the bleeding stump,

Silence,

one,

two,

three… she starts screaming.

This time he moves willingly towards her, dropping to his knees as she crumples and wrapping his fingers tight around her wrist to stop the bleeding. He pats his side, searching for his field kit and is hit with a blind panic when he doesn't find it until he remembers, city, not war, mafia, not soldiers.

He rips strips off her coat and wraps a makeshift tourniquet around her wrist, excess fabric curling around the open wound, it's not sterile enough to prevent infection but at least dirt won't enter. He can't hear much past her continued screaming.

"Atsushi!" Tanizuka calls in fear.

He looks up just in time to catch something black coming at him, curling around the women and…

There's a sickening rip and then he's staring at his arm lying three feet from his body.

"Not bad, Higuchi, though I see this will be the last time you will be useful."

…

Earlier that day

Ring, ring

"Hello?"

"Dazai-kun, that boy visited me. I suggest you send someone to pick him up."

Hibiki looks outside the window of her shop. There is a man in the shadow of an alley, face turned towards Atsushi as he speaks into a phone.

"It's seems he's picked up some trouble."


End file.
